


Until the Real Thing Comes Along

by geekpaws



Series: The Road to Vegas [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, rated also for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-12 23:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9095479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekpaws/pseuds/geekpaws
Summary: Whoever said the Courier wanted to run a city, anyway? But she thinks she knows the perfect man for the job...whether her friends agree or not.





	1. Chapter 1

Honor had known her pronouncement would not likely be well received, and had braced herself for a chilly reception by preparing responses for every protest her friends were likely to throw at her. She expected a protracted battle ending in agreements of varying degrees to help.

She wasn't prepared for the nearly-identical expressions of comedic disbelief on each of their faces. Except for Boone, of course; as usual, he showed no emotion at all. Surprisingly, though, he was the first to speak. "It's about time." He resettled the rifle on his shoulder. "We'll help you track down that cowardly weasel."

"Uh, Boone," Cass said, her eyes still on Honor, "I don't think she wants help killing him."

"I'm all right with that. She _should_ have the kill. But we can still help her find him, and cover her back."

"Still missing the point."

Arcade reached beneath his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "For god's sake... _why?"_

Honor gave him a wry smile. "I don't want the responsibility of running a city. Do you?"

"I'd give it a try," Veronica chirped.

"You'd do a better job of it than he would." Arcade shook his head. "The man tried to kill you, honey. And he darn near succeeded. What makes you think—" He faltered, unable to put words to her fathomless decision.

"At the fort. When I gave him a stealth boy and let him go. You know, he never begged me for his life. I just couldn't kill him, helpless and on his knees. And yes, he saw the irony in that." She leaned back against the table behind her. "He should have just run, but he didn't. He took out a couple of the guards for me before he disappeared. So to speak." She grinned, but mostly to herself; she didn't expect any of the others to remember the situation with any humor or fondness. No one smiled with her. She continued. "I don't want the city. I want it to thrive, but I don't want it to be my problem. I just want— I want to be nobody. Unimportant. I don't want the future of the Mojave on my shoulders. I need anonymity. I need my shoulders to be burden-free.

"And Benny—" She focused on a distant point in the air, trying to see what he had seen when he spoke of his beloved city. "Benny had a vision for it, knew what the city should be like, and how to make it happen."

"Yeah, by shooting people in the head," Cass muttered.

"It was a valid hypothesis."

"Wait. Wait. Let's be clear on this. Are you actually defending his attempt to murder you?"

She paused, considering Arcade's question thoroughly. "Yeah, I guess I am. Oh, come on, guys, do you know how many people _I've_ killed?"

"They were people you had to kill," Boone said.

"From our point of view, sure. I'm guessing they'd have had a different opinion on it, though, had I given them a chance to express it."

He looked away from her. "I can't. I can't help you put a city's well-being in the hands of that degenerate."

ED-E chittered angrily, and as loudly as they'd ever heard him, effectively silencing the argument.

After a beat, Arcade said, "Huh. I know Honor's the resident expert at speaking 'eyebot,' but did that thing just scold us?"

Veronica grinned.

"Fine. I side with the hunk of metal." Cass leaned forward. "Honor, you're my friend. My best friend, in fact. You stood beside me when no one else would have, so I owe you. But I'll help you because I want to. I want to help my friends." She patted the shotgun in her lap. "I'll go with you."

"Me, too," Veronica said, "as long as you can promise me I'll get to punch someone. If not Benny, then...someone."

"Oh, I think that's pretty much guaranteed." Honor grinned. "Thanks, guys."

"I'll help, too." Arcade shrugged when she turned to him in surprise. "Lord knows, if you're going after Benny, you'll likely need a doctor along."

"Yeah," Boone spat, "for her head." He looked around the room, his disdain palpable. "But Cass is right. I'm in." Honor started to open her mouth but he waved her off. "If only to protect you from yourself. You trust too easily, and that weasel knows it now. If he steps out of line, if he even looks like he's planning something...I'm putting a bullet through his brain."

"Well, thanks everyone else, then." She cocked her head toward Boone. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd _not_ shoot him; I didn't let the Legion hack on me with machetes to cover his getaway just so someone else could kill him." She grinned again. "Don't waste my stealth boy. The one I gave him was the only one I had."

 

They spent weeks scouring the Mojave. Cass and Boone still had friends in California, so even though Honor had badly alienated the NCR, they were still able to lay out a network to track Benny if he left New Vegas heading west. No word came, though. They edged east as they searched, unable to trace even rumors of him. Honor was sure he hadn't headed into Legion territory; she was equally sure that he would have delayed leaving his native Mojave until absolutely necessary. So even after she knew the others thought they should give up, she kept looking.

They'd nearly reached the river in their combing of the wasteland, and at last one late afternoon Boulder City came in view.

"I hate to be the voice of reason," Arcade said as they approached the ruined town, "but we're running out of Mojave."

"I know." Honor pushed loose wisps of hair out of her eyes.

"Honor?"

She shook her head at him. "There are still places we haven't looked."

"Damn few," Boone said. "And what are the odds he's still this close to the Fort? Anybody in his right mind would have run as far and fast from the Legion as they could."

Honor answered before anyone could start making "right mind" jokes. "I know it. I know."

"There's the Big Horner." Cass clapped her on the shoulder. "We could probably discuss this better if our throats weren't so dry."

Honor dipped her head in acquiescence. "I don't want to give up. But there's no reason we can't look for him while we're drunk." She followed with the others as Cass took point and led them into the bar.

At first, Honor blamed the dim interior after the sand-bright desert, but as her eyes adjusted, she could still see him at a table off to the side, by himself. Ignored, except for the group at the door.

"Well, son of a bitch," Boone murmured.

"Wow. It _is_ always in the last place you look."

"Of course, it is. Who keeps looking after they find what they're looking for?"

Honor heard none of their banter. She advanced, alone, toward the man sitting by himself in the dark corner. His checkered jacket showed a layer of road dust and his hair was a touch disheveled, but when he looked up and saw her he cracked a grin brighter than the sun outside. "Pussycat! How did you find me?" His smile didn't falter, but his eyes narrowed. "Or I guess more importantly, why?"

She didn't wait for an invitation, but sat opposite him. "I never said you had to leave. Riding off into the nearest sunset was your idea."

He fiddled with the neck of the bottle in front of him; several of its mates, already empty, littered the table. "I figured high-tailing it out of the Mojave was the prudent thing."

"You didn't get very far."

He tried to smile again, but neither of them believed it. "Guess I wasn't in the hurry I should have been, sugarplum." He took a drink that emptied his bottle. "So, what's it gonna be? Pistols at twenty paces? Or are your friends over there gonna take care of me for you?"

"What?" It took her a moment to realize she'd heard him correctly. "Benny, I'm not going to kill you. If I wanted you dead, I'd have killed you at the Fort. Hell, I'd have killed you at the Tops."

He shrugged. "You've had time to reflect since then, baby. Time to regret."

"I don't regret letting you live." She leaned forward and locked eyes with him. "First of all, how drunk are you?"

This did elicit a real grin. "Drunk enough to be copacetic with whatever you decide to do to me, baby."

"Great. Benny, I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to take you home."

He blinked at her, glanced at her entourage still huddled near the door, then looked back into her eyes. "Back to Vegas? Back to the Strip? Why?"

"Because they're yours, numbskull. Not mine." When he frowned at her and narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to figure out her angle, she elaborated. "I never wanted to be in charge. I didn't want to be a soldier or a hero or have people relying on me. But I'm apparently only good at shooting people, and surviving getting blown up and hacked on and...shot. I don't know what to do with a city. I don't know how to run one— I don't know how to run anything. But you do. You know what Vegas can be, what it _should_ be. And you know all the childish infighting and personality conflicts in the families, and—" She waved her hands in the air. "All of that garbage. _You_ can make the great things happen. I can't. And Vegas deserves great things."

He just stared at her for another long moment before asking, "Why such confidence in me? I got caught, taken out of the running. House was on to me from the get go; you told me so yourself. What makes you think I'm clever enough—"

"House was grooming you as his protege. He never let you know that, did he?"

"He— that conniving son of a bitch." He shook his head, his gaze distant as his thoughts raced.

"Though if you ask me, he was never going to see fit to hand over the reins. I think you were more than likely a back up plan, just in case, and he'd have let you die of old age before he turned loose of the Strip. But the point is, Benny, _I_ never wanted Vegas, or the Mojave, or the dam. Any of it. There were just so many people to help, so many things to do, I had to do what I could. Now that it's over—" She stumbled to a halt, at a loss for future plans. The present was overwhelming enough. "There's no catch. Just please come back and take over your damn city. _Please."_

Slowly, he smiled, a bit of a familiar swagger beneath the drunkenness. "I've had a lot of women beg, Pussycat, but none of 'em sounded as sweet as you."

"Yeah, great." She waved toward the door. "So you'll come back with us?"

"Baby—" He put his hands on the table and started to rise, but quickly dropped back into his chair. "'S it all right if we wait until I'm sober?"

She turned to look at Cass, who motioned her impatience. _Bar,_ Cass mouthed, holding her hands out in a gesture that clearly said, _Why are my hands still empty?_ "Yeah," Honor told him. "I think we can probably stay a little while."

 

"A little while" turned into the rest of the evening and a good chunk of the night. Most of the regular patrons left long before they did, and though Honor was grateful that her friends chose to behave themselves, she took it upon herself to break up the party while it was still dark outside. She approached Ike to pay their bill and, to her surprise, found that Benny was caught up on his. "Not that he hasn't been drinking," Ike told her. "Hell, I've had a hard time keeping after him. But he's been throwing me caps like there's no tomorrow. Tell the truth, I appreciate the caps, but I'm kinda glad to see him go. He's been depressing me."

She frowned. The Benny she'd met was bright, chipper even, in the face of death. Fatalistic, maybe, but only practically so; not defeatist. "How so?"

"I guess he's left some woman behind somewhere. Says he can't go back to her, that she don't want him, that he's done awful things, you know. I told him it's the wasteland, everyone's done at least one awful thing. Dressed rich like that, throwing around caps like it's nothing, how bad could he be? Go talk to her. No, he says, can't do that. So move on, then. No, he says, got nowhere to move on to.

"I tell you what," Ike continued, leaning toward Honor and relishing his spotlight, "I see and hear a lot. I tell you what's happened. He's a fancy city type, right? So he's gotta be outta Vegas. I bet you caps to cactus water he's been living the high life with chems and caps and hookers, and then one day he met a gal who made him take a nice, hard look at himself. Got under his skin, and he can't get her out again.

"Fact is, most women are the forgiving sort. I'd lay you odds that if he talked to this woman, she'd forgive him. He's just too scared to ask her, 'cause he don't think he should be forgiven." He shook his head. "I mean, how bad could it be? Did he cheat on her? Bang her best friend? Whatever it was, he ain't letting himself get over it."

She pondered this as they gathered themselves and Benny and headed for one of the more or less intact buildings to camp for the rest of the night. She didn't trust Benny any farther than she could throw him, but what reason would he have to lie to Ike? Unless he planned on her tracking him down and was setting something up.... But how could he be so sure she'd come looking for him?

But, as Boone had pointed out, she wanted to trust people, and Benny knew that now, knew it the minute she'd set him free.

The second guessing set her head spinning, so she shook it off. It did no good, anyway, and soon enough she'd be dropping Benny into the Strip's lap and walking away from the whole damn mess.

"Where to" remained as much of a mystery as "where from," but no matter...where her feet wandered, she would follow. She had a hunch it was what she was used to, anyway.

By unspoken agreement, Benny settled himself as far from the others as possible. Honor put herself between him and her friends, just in case; she might be trusting, but she wasn't a fool. Instead of shutting down for the night ED-E began a quiet patrol above their heads which suited her just fine. If Benny did try anything— well, recent tribal or no, she doubted his reflexes were faster than an eyebot's.

Surprisingly, Benny had spoken very little since their initial exchange. She knew he was mulling over her presence and all that she had told him— she could practically see the gears turning in his head— but she had really expected him to try to talk his way into, or out of, _something_ by now. But maybe he had a hunch, like she, that not all of her compatriots would tolerate his glib tongue the way she did.

She bundled up her jacket and tucked it beneath her head. Her friends improvised in similar ways, but Benny pillowed his head on his arms, ankles crossed, gazing upward at the cracked ceiling. He noticed her watching him and smiled a little. "Nights get cold," he said, but she didn't buy it.

"Yeah, I suppose all that indoor living you've been doing has left you soft," Boone scoffed.

She could, again, see the gears turning as Benny grinned— _Nothing soft about me, bear-flag boy_ — but he said nothing.

Veronica put out the lantern, leaving Honor with a lasting image in the darkness of that knowing grin, and the play of muscle beneath his shirt and jacket. Whatever he was keeping covered, it wasn't any kind of softness.


	2. Chapter 2

She dreamed of the Fort.

She frequently dreamed back through the nightmares she'd already lived in the Mojave, memories made surreal by a restless subconscious; this time, though, the realism itself was uncanny. Caesar on his ridiculous throne, its back mimicked by the autodoc in the tent behind him, the odor of blood in the air. Benny on his knees, confessing he'd told them what he knew about the chip. "Persuasive," he told her as one of the guards pulled his head back and exposed his throat.

She knew what was coming. She turned away.

The blood splashed over her, dousing her hair, her clothes, slopping into her boots. His blood. Her fault.

She heard the sounds of machetes hacking flesh behind her. "You could have done this," he told her, his voice calm and steady even though they'd cut his throat. "You'd have done it quick, clean. 'Cause, baby, we both know you don't hate me like they do."

"You tried to kill me," she replied without turning around.

"So I did. But I thought it was either you, or the Chairmen. My tribe. My family." Even though she couldn't see him, she knew that he was gesturing to her left. She looked where he pointed to see her friends there, waiting for her. "What would you have done?"

She frowned. "But they didn't kill you. I set you free."

"That you did, baby." His voice was nearer now and she braced herself as he stepped into her line of sight. Her breathing quickened when she saw him— what they'd done to him. "Never said they killed me, Pussycat. Only that they— persuaded me."

She woke gasping for air, her back clammy against the concrete floor. _God damn it,_ she thought. _Not bad enough to relive my own nightmares; now I'm taking on other people's, too?_ She turned her head to look at him. He seemed to be sleeping soundly. She wondered if a person could drink enough not to have nightmares.

Maybe she should try it.

 

She didn't remember the rest of her dreams, and the nightmare at the Fort faded under the shifting sun as they headed toward Vegas. Benny hung toward the back of the group, followed only by Honor and ED-E. He seemed content enough to be solitary and silent. Honor was surprised at how much that bothered her. It just wasn't...Benny. Not that she'd spent that much time with him or knew him that well, but it was such a departure from what she did know of him that it made her uncomfortable. She lengthened her stride to catch up with him. "So, what are you going to do when you get back?"

He looked at her sideways. "Thought I might stop by Gomorrah, pick up a few girls, stop by Aces and pick up a few cocktails, then take 'em all back to my suite and pick up a few social diseases."

"You've clearly thought this through, then."

He grinned. "First step, I guess, is to see if the Chairmen will have me back."

"They might not?" She hadn't considered this as a possibility, but it would certainly complicate matters if Benny were looked on, not as a member of one of the Strip Families, but as another outsider. Another House.

"Sure. We got a code, baby, and it don't include double-dealing."

"So why didn't you tell them what you were doing?"

He shrugged, but she saw the flash of sadness in his eyes before he could hide it. "Better in case I got caught. If House got onto me, it'd only be me he took out. The whole family wouldn't wind up back out in the wastes. Or worse. Obviously it was the right call. House did get onto me. I take it he didn't much care that the Legion had me."

"Um...no. He didn't." She felt cruel telling him so, but it was the truth.

"And Swank didn't send out a search party...." It was a statement, but still sounded hopeful that she would contradict.

"He said he figured you were out on a bender."

"Yeah. So I guess you were the only one who gave a good god damn what was happening to the ol' Ben-man, huh, Pussycat? Ain't that just platinum?"

They let the unspoken hang in the air between them: _If I'd succeeded in killing you, I'd be dead, too._

"You met the old man."

"Yeah."

"So, what was he, really? Robot? AI?"

"No, he really was an old man."

Benny gave her a false scowl along with his grin. "Just your average bicentenarian, hm? He didn't sound like a ghoul...."

"Not a ghoul. Very, very old man hooked up to the most elaborate life support system you've ever seen."

"No kidding. So what'd you do to put him out of commission?"

"I shot him. That usually does it."

"Ouch, baby, on both fronts. You offed an old man?"

"Believe me," she said, her eyes focused firmly on the ground in front of her, "it was the best of a bevy of bad options."

He watched her a moment more. "I believe you." He nodded forward. "So what's ahead for you? What are you gonna do once you hand the shining jewel that is Vegas over to yours truly? Have you grown accustomed to the good life, or is it back to walking the Mojave as a lowly courier for you?"

She remained silent a little too long. "I don't know. I don't think I'll do that."

"Don't want to go back to the life you had before I, ah, 'interrupted' it?"

"Benny." She dropped back from the group even farther, and so did he. "I don't know what my life was before you shot me. You brain damaged me— I can't remember anything before waking up in that graveyard with you and the Khans standing over me."

He stopped altogether. "I— what?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "You ran two bullets through my head, Benny. Weren't you planning on them doing some kind of damage?"

He swallowed hard. "Yeah. I was planning on you being dead when we put you six feet under."

"It was more like a foot and a half."

"Pussycat." He took her upper arms in his hands. "I meant to kill you, and make it clean. I never meant to torture you. And if I'd known you then—" He snapped his mouth shut, as if he'd realized he was about to give something away.

"If you'd known me, what?"

After a long, uncomfortable moment, he replied, "I couldn't have done it. I'd either have cashed out and left the table, or— I don't know what. But I could never in a million years have pulled that trigger."

She considered that for a moment, and at length nodded. "Thank you." They fell into step beside each other again.

"And just for the record, what I told you when you found me at the Tops was true. I did hope that seeing you alive would let me sleep easier."

"If you didn't know me, why care if you killed me?"

He shook his head, his gaze cast downward. "Don't know. Something about your eyes...as if, scared as you were, you could still look right into me...."

"And did you? Sleep better?" She smiled a little, still not sure whether he was feeding her a line, but curious to hear him out.

"At first. I did. Until the Fort."

She sobered. "Was it bad?"

He seemed to start, then regain himself. "Oh, some of it was about me, sure. But I spent a lot of nights staring at the dark and thinking about how you'd set me free and covered my exit after what I'd done to you...how you'd let me get out without another scratch and stayed behind to make sure I did. It didn't sit well."

"Huh. Glad to hear it."

"Contrary to popular belief, or at least what the Khans might tell you, the Chairmen do have a code of honor. It does not include shooting women. Or anyone helpless. Or unarmed. Three strikes, sugarplum."

She frowned thoughtfully. "There were big things at stake, Benny."

"Don't I know it."

"I honestly don't know what to believe from you. Ever. But...thanks for talking to me about it, anyway. If _any_ of it's the truth— well, it's nice to know."

"For what it's worth, it's all the truth, baby. There's no point in lying to you— I told you. Those eyes of yours look right into me."

The silence lingered a moment, two, before Benny broke it, a forced cheerfulness to his tone that made Honor suspect at least part of what he'd admitted to her _had_ been truth. "So no plans now— live in the moment, hey? Very wise around here. Or...everywhere, I'd guess."

She just nodded, lost in a tumble of thoughts.

Preoccupied as she was, she was completely unprepared when Benny lunged for her, knocking her to the ground.

She was fit, and strong for a woman, but he held her down with ease. It took her just a heartbeat to realize, though, that his attention wasn't on her; his arms shielded her head and his face was turned to one side. He was shouting, Cass was shouting, and she realized an explosion had sounded when her head hit the ground. She felt, rather than heard, a second. Benny lowered his head next to hers, their faces nestled together cheek to cheek beneath the shelter of his arms. A third grenade shook the ground below them, but Honor could no longer hear anything but the sound of her own blood in her head.

She felt his breath at her ear, and he raised his face from hers. He spoke again but his voice was too muffled to understand. She shook her head at him.

He frowned and lifted his hand to lightly brush her forehead. She felt where he'd touched, but it seemed fine. She rubbed her ears, trying to pop them.

Shadows fell over Benny's shoulders, one shaped like Boone and the other like Arcade. Boone seized Benny and wrenched him off of her. She reached toward him. "Hey! Oh, wow, I sound weird...." She held onto Arcade as he helped her sit up. Veronica and Cass were on their feet, poking at some raider corpses. ED-E swept around Boone and Benny; Boone held Benny with his arms twisted behind his back, but Benny didn't appear to be fighting him. And though she couldn't hear him, she guessed from ED-E's frantic flight path that he was complaining mightily at one or both of them. "Boone! Get off of him." She tilted her head to the side and opened her mouth, still trying to make her ears pop.

Boone mouthed something back to her that caused Benny to roll his eyes.

"I can't hear you," Honor replied. "Now turn him loose."

Looking for all the world like that was the last thing he wanted to do, Boone did as he was told.

Benny made a show of straightening his cuffs as he came back to kneel beside her. He said something to Arcade, Arcade said something back, and then Benny turned to her and gave her a little nod. _You're gonna be fine._

She nodded her understanding and let both men help her to her feet.

Relief was short lived. She saw Cass's eyes go wide, and Veronica take a step back; she turned toward where they stared. A pair of deathclaws watched them from above a ridge to the east. Another came into view, then another, and another, attracted by the grenades and gunshots. Two more joined them as the first two came lumbering over the hill, and the one leading the charge had the massive horns of an alpha.

Three new ones joined their fellows at the top of the ridge.

Honor and her friends scattered.


	3. Chapter 3

She grabbed at Benny's sleeve and he followed as she fled. ED-E soared just ahead of her, halting and turning every few seconds to guard their backs, then swooping back to the front. Benny kept up with her, though he looked strained; she recognized the look, not of exertion, or exhaustion, but pain. ED-E began firing over their heads.

They topped a ridge and the world fell out from beneath their feet, plunging them into a ten foot freefall ending in a splash of icy water.

Honor struggled to keep her bearings as the cold water closed her throat. She fought to the surface and pulled her rifle. ED-E had taken out one deathclaw already, the corpse still ablaze. She shot at another, pumping bullet after bullet into it until it finally fell. A third had followed them and she fired on it.

Her rifle jammed.

She heard the popping of small arms fire and turned to see Benny treading water and firing his pistol at the thing, unable to kill it but drawing it away from her and ED-E. ED-E spun toward it and torched it. It lay still where it fell.

The humans climbed slowly out of the icy pond. Benny shook his jacket and droplets flew. "Well, that was bracing." He turned away to cough out water.

Honor propped her hands on her thighs and tried to steady her breathing. Her hearing had returned, but now her ears sloshed. Benny took a seat on a wide, low boulder and, after wringing as much water from her hair as she could, she joined him.

He grinned at her, his own hair slicked back, his clothes clinging. "I'd offer you a cigarette, but...."

She grinned back. "Just as well I don't smoke, then." She began peeling off her leather armor.

Benny grinned even bigger. "Oh, baby, I thought you'd never ask."

"Yeah, dream on," she said, still smiling at him. "Do you often find women want you after you've shot them in the face?"

"Oh, ouch again, Pussycat. Those are some sharp claws."

"Benny, you shot me in the head."

The smile faltered and he bent to pry off one soggy shoe. "Yeah, I know."

"Not saying I take it personally," Honor continued, struggling with her boot, "just that I'd love to be sure it's not going to happen again."

"Need a hand?"

She gestured at the boot; it was stuck fast. "Be my guest."

He stood before her and took her heel in his palm as she leaned back. "I'm never gonna hurt you again, Pussycat."

"Well, I don't intend to ever get between you and your city again...."

He wriggled the heel of her boot experimentally. "You have no idea how much shooting you bothered me."

"Yeah. Pull the other one."

"Hm. Funny." He wiggled her heel again and easily slipped the boot from her calf and off of her foot.

"Thanks." She held up the other foot. He raised an eyebrow at her unspoken demand and repeated the procedure. "I have to say...I can't really blame you."

"You what?"

"You were trying to protect your family. I've killed plenty of people doing the same thing. At least you had the honor and good grace to look me in the eye first."

He stood there, staring at her, just a little too long.

It gave her a chance to really look at him. "Are you shivering?"

He shrugged and turned away. "I'm all right."

"No, come on. I'm not carrying your ass all the way to Vegas if you get sick."

"Being wet and cold doesn't make you sick."

"Benny—"

His shoulders tensed but, his back still to her, he began peeling off his clothes. Jacket first, exposing a fine white shirt that clung to his back oddly, as if covering a raised pattern, pink and wet...and then he removed the shirt.

"Benny— oh, my god—"

He almost— almost— looked at her over his shoulder. "I told you. They were persuasive."

In spite of herself, in spite of everything, Honor felt hot tears spilling down her cheeks. She stepped forward and touched his shoulder gingerly. He flinched, the violence of the reaction far out of proportion to the gentleness of her touch. "My god. Why did they— oh, Benny."

He turned to her, revealing more angry, raised scars streaked red over the muscles of his chest and abdomen. When he saw she was crying, he frowned and raised his hands to her cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs. "Oh, honey baby. It's all right...."

"No, it isn't 'all right.' It isn't— they tortured you! Over that stupid chip?"

"No. Over rulership of the Mojave. I told you, the level of game we were playing—"

"It wasn't a game, Benny. They didn't even want what was down there, no matter what it was. Caesar just didn't want his men to see it. He could have achieved the same goddamned thing by blowing up the weather station over it and blocking the entrance. He didn't _have_ to do this to you— he _wanted_ to do this to you." She felt herself shaking, but she couldn't stop it. It was too much. It was all just too much.

Benny encircled her with his arms and she sank into him, her tears flowing from her cheeks to his shoulder and bicep. She brushed his back with her fingers, but hesitated, fearful that she would hurt him, as the wounds had clearly not been fully— or correctly?— healed. "It's okay to touch me, honey baby," he murmured into her hair, and she reached around him and clung tight, like he could save her from drowning. He brushed one hand up and down her back and pressed his mouth into her wet hair, rocking her almost imperceptibly. As she sniffled, her tears finally subsiding, he breathed into her hair, "We all have our scars, Pussycat. Just...some of them show."

At length they finished undressing to the barest of necessities— Honor got the feeling that, once his scars were discovered, Benny would have been fine stripping to his skin in front of her, but didn't out of deference to her, which again she found surprising. An ambushing, backstabbing, honorable gentleman. She decided to give up trying to figure him out; once they got back to the Strip, she'd never see him again, anyway. It hardly mattered. While she arranged their clothes on the sun-warm boulder to dry, Benny built a fire nearby to hurry the process and get their body temperatures back to normal.

She dropped to the ground next to it. "Wow."

"'Wow,' what?"

"I always have to use a flint starter. How'd you do that?"

He quirked one corner of his mouth. "It's like breathing, baby. When you're born to it, it just comes naturally." He sat back next to her, comfortably close but not touching. "I can teach you how, if you'd like."

"Yeah, I would."

"Really?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

"Really." A thought occurred and she leaned over to dig in her pants pocket. She sat back and handed him his lighter. "It's, ah, a little wet. Sorry."

He took it from her slowly. "Thank you," he said, his voice soft.

"You're welcome."

They fell quiet, but it was an easy silence.

 

She wasn't sure when, exactly, but her restless night before coupled with the adrenaline rush and subsequent crash of their flight let her drift to sleep by the fire. She woke, slowly, and for a few moments she had no idea where she was or what had happened. Night had fallen, and she could hear ED-E's soft hum as he patrolled overhead. She was on her side on the ground, but someone was cradling her upper body in his lap. She thought for a moment it might be Arcade or Boone, but whoever it was stroked her gently from head to shoulder. It was amazingly soothing. But Arcade would never touch her so intimately, and as she woke more and realized she was dressed only in her underwear, she launched to her knees, vowing to break Boone's hand if he was the one taking advantage—

She found herself nose to nose with Benny. "You all right, Pussycat? You were mewing an awful lot in your sleep."

She blinked rapidly, coming fully awake and remembering the events that had led here. "Um— nightmares," she said, backing off of his lap and hoping her blush wasn't visible by firelight.

"Ah. I know the feeling."

She tried not to look at his scarred body. "I'm sure you do."

"So, to update. I imagine our clothes are dry, but I'm not sure how safe we are traveling at night with a nest of deathclaws moving in next door. Your call on what we do."

She retrieved her Pip-Boy from the boulder. "If we're where I think we are, there's the remnants of a little shack over that way a bit." She pointed. "It isn't much more than a roof set against the rocks, but it did have an old tent hanging from one side— could probably use that as a ground cover, or blanket, or...." She bit her lip.

"I promise to keep behaving myself. Shall we?"

The sheet of tin was still there, propped up with four by fours in the front and wedged against the mountainside in back. A length of canvas hung from one corner, long enough that they were able to reattach it to form a wall on one side that trailed down to cover the "floor," as well. They had redressed, and after Honor removed the more uncomfortable pieces of her armor, they lay down to sleep through the rest of the night clothed and with a careful space between them.

Honor woke a few hours after falling asleep. Benny had built and banked another fire just outside their shelter, and by its light she could see him shivering. As hot as the desert was by day, it was equally cold at night; or, she thought, he could be reliving the acquisition of those scars. Despite her best judgment, her heart went out to him. She edged closer and slipped her arms around him, and he stilled, his breathing settling and the tremors subsiding. He turned a little in his sleep and snuggled toward her.

She let him.

In the light of morning, her decision to hold him was more awkward, and though she could tell by his amused expression that he really, _really_ wanted to make snide comments about waking up in her arms, he wisely refrained. They broke camp and got well underway before he spoke about it. "So, honey baby, what exactly is this?"

She stared resolutely ahead. "What's what?"

"Oh, come on, baby. Bluffing isn't your strong suit. We both know the score. Why did you rescue me? Why did you come back for me?"

"I told you."

He took her upper arm in his hand and halted, letting her momentum swing her in an arc and into his chest. He brought his other hand up so he cupped both of her shoulders. "There's more to this than you're admitting, Pussycat. Maybe even to yourself." Though there was no room between them, he stepped forward, pressing their bodies together. He bent his face close to hers, his breath warm and sweet on her cheek, his mouth only an inch from the corner of hers. "What do you want from me, honey baby?"

She met his eyes squarely, if not fearlessly. "I don't know."

He smiled a little. "Now you're being honest." He trailed a finger up her throat and touched the edge of her lower lip, parting her mouth slightly.

She closed her eyes and turned her face away. He let her, his hand hanging in the air where she'd been. "I don't— I don't even know you."

He ducked his head toward her, bringing her gaze back to him. "Then get to know me."

"What?"

"Stay in Vegas," he said, and she would have sworn he sounded earnest. "Let me show you who I really am. What I did everything for. Give me a month."

"Benny—"

"A month, that's all I'm asking. Four weeks. After that, you want to go back to the road, you go back, with my blessing. But please, baby— if you were willing to cross the depth and breadth of the Mojave to find me, there must be some part of you willing to give me a chance. Isn't there? Isn't that what this means?"

She stared up into his dark, pleading eyes, her own wide, and could not answer him.

He leaned in and took her mouth with his. She whimpered as he worked her lower lip between his, fire plunging through her belly as she scrabbled at his back with her hands. He kept her clenched against him, his lips moving against hers until her knees gave beneath her and she cried out into his mouth. He released her from the kiss, then, though not from his embrace, and whispered to her huskily, "So, whaddya say? Give me a chance?"

She pushed against his chest with a hand that trembled, and he opened his arms and let her go. She stumbled back two steps, three, her thoughts racing too fast for her to follow. The rush, the warmth, the _want_ of it all, shook her to her feet. She wondered if that had been her first kiss. Surely not— but what could she know?

She staggered back to him and grabbed his head in her hands, pulling him toward herself without really knowing what she was asking for. He, apparently, knew, and put his mouth to hers again, dazing her with heat and desire.

She knew she wanted _more._ And right now, that was enough.


	4. Chapter 4

She remained silent for hours, and he let her. She showed some life again when they met up with the others and found that no one had been injured, but immediately sank back into quiet self-examination. Pondering out whatever "this" was, as Benny put it, occupied her every thought all the way to the Strip. They stopped just inside the gate and Benny took a moment just to look around. "Feels like I've been gone for years."

Honor asked gently, "So, I guess first order of business is to talk to Swank?"

He nodded sharply. "That it is, Pussycat."

"And if all goes well, 'Pussycat,'" Cass asked, nudging Honor's arm, "what are you gonna do? Have you decided?"

Benny turned to look at her, and he actually managed to look both trepidatious and hopeful. Honor tried to ignore him, but that was impossible. "Well...I'm going to stay awhile, I think. A few weeks, anyway."

Benny's grin was equal parts smugness and relief. They'd reached the Tops and he opened the door for them. "Unless I'm persona non grata now, room service is on me." They stepped into the lobby and Swank looked up from the front desk.

"Benny! Boss man!" He inclined his head toward the nearest Chairmen. "See, I told you losers he'd be back." He came out from around the counter and slapped Benny on the shoulder. "'Cat's just gotta swing,' I told 'em. 'He'll be back.'" Swank flashed the others a toothy grin. "What did I tell ya?"

"Yeah, Swank, you don't miss a trick, do you?" Benny shot Honor a look and she turned her head so Swank wouldn't see her smile. "So what damage did you do to the joint while I was gone?"

After assuring Swank that he was already caught up on the political changes in the Mojave, Benny settled the lot of them in the casino's restaurant. He asked Honor if she wanted to accompany him; he intended to meet privately with Swank and a few other higher-ranking Chairmen to apprise them of the change in Strip management, but she declined. "That was the whole point," she told him; "so I wouldn't have to be involved in running the city."

"Sure, Pussycat, sure," he'd replied. "You keep telling yourself that."

After he left their table, Boone asked her, "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. It's just...Benny. Being Benny."

"You've been so quiet since we got separated...."

"Look who's talking."

"I'm serious, Honor. Did he say something, or...try something?" He began to bristle. "If he laid a hand on you, you say the word and I'll splatter his brains all over the—"

"Relax! He didn't do anything wrong. He was actually kind of a gentleman. Mostly."

"'Kind of' and 'mostly,'" Veronica repeated. "Don't get too crazy with those compliments, now."

"Really. He surprised me." Honor gave the group a halfhearted smile. "He didn't even try to kill me again, or anything."

"Ah, yes, the mark of a true gentleman," Arcade said. "Not trying to kill you at every opportunity."

"This is Benny we're talking about here. Not getting backstabbed is a big deal." Honor slammed back her drink. "And I still think he's the best choice for running this city."

"So why are you staying?" Cass asked.

She didn't have an answer.

 

They'd been back a week when Benny asked her out for dinner. In that week she had watched the city carefully as Benny's "change in management" took effect. The Strip's inner gates came down. With the Omertas ousted, the Gomorrah was refurbished with a brighter look (and a lot more sequins) by the Kings. The NCR embassy, he turned over to the Followers at Arcade's suggestion— Honor found herself stunned and delighted all at once. The embassy stretch had never shared the glitz and glam of the hotels and casinos, but at least now it served a better purpose. "And I've tapped Mickey Angelo," Benny told her as he escorted her to the Tops for their dinner date, "to rehab the neon. Get this place glowing like it should, you dig?" He jerked his chin upward and she looked where he indicated— the gaping hole in the uppermost floors of the Tops herself. "And _that's_ finally gonna get squared away. I've got plans for every inch of the Strip, baby."

"What about Freeside?"

He turned to grin at her. "Why do you think the Kings have their own casino now? Can't stop the infighting in this town if we still keep people out. Metaphorically, of course, sugarplum. We'll still have Securitrons stationed at the entrances. But if the Kings run Freeside— and we both know they do— and they have a say in how we run the city, then Freeside's on _our_ side."

"'We'?"

"Sure. Look, I'm not House. I want other people here to be involved with how all this goes down."

"Really?" Even she was surprised at the amount of skepticism in her voice.

"Really. Things go belly up, I don't want to be the only one to blame." He flashed her another charming grin, and she wondered whether to believe him.

He continued. "I don't want to make the same mistakes House made. Otherwise some courier's liable to come along, roust me out of my life support pod and shoot _me_ in the head. I prefer to be a benevolent ruler, baby."

"Yeah, all that gratitude and love coming your way...."

He grew serious and looked away. "I don't know about the 'love' part."

"Well, I think it sounds like you're on the right track. Marjorie and the King told me you're forming some sort of city council?"

"Sure am. They've both agreed to be on it."

"That's what they said."

"Along with Swank and Julie Farkas."

They'd reached the Tops entrance and he hurried his steps so he could reach the door first and hold it open for her. She found the gesture oddly endearing; they both knew what she was capable of, but this was a _date,_ damn it, and Benny was determined to be a gentleman.

And treat her like a lady.

When she was cleaning dust and sand and blood and offal out of the joints in her armor, she felt about as unladylike and unappealing as possible. Before Benny came to get her at the Lucky 38, cleaned up and wearing the dress Veronica had picked out for her, she felt like a fraud— like everyone who looked at her would see not scrubbed skin and tidy dress, but blood on her hands and the Mojave itself on her face.

That Benny could turn that around, make her feel like a woman, maybe even a normal woman, was nothing shy of miraculous.

"What about Westside?" she asked, trying to recorral her thoughts.

He gave his head a half shake. "They haven't decided. They're just now getting a taste of independence and don't want to give it up. Can't say I blame them."

She headed toward the diner, but he took her elbow and gently guided her to the stairs. She corrected her course, but he kept a feather hold, one hand at her elbow and the other at the small of her back. She had to give him this: he was smooth.

"And who's paying for all the renovations?"

He scowled. "House. Kept telling us further improvements to the Strip or the casinos weren't 'in the budget.' Pussycat, you wouldn't believe how much that old man had stashed away."

"Since you're not paying him a cut of your profits anymore, the casinos should put that money into maintaining the city when that fund runs dry." They'd reached the door to the Aces, and again, he stepped forward to open it for her.

" _That_ is a ring a ding idea, baby. See? You _could_ have run this city."

"Yeah, but that's the difference between you and me, Benny. I don't want to."

He waited until they were settled at a table, a little more secluded and toward the back, before pursuing what she'd said. "I'm sure you don't think that's the only difference. I mean, my reputation's not exactly stellar in some circles—"

"'Some'?"

He grinned. "And you're Miss Goody Two Shoes of the Mojave."

She snorted. "Miss Goody Two Shoes. Benny, I've killed so many people— I don't even know how many."

"It's how things are, baby. If you want to survive—"

"It wasn't just surviving. I chose sides, and I killed people who were in my way." She looked at him squarely. "And I didn't even look them in the eyes first."

He dropped his gaze. "Baby...."

"We can't pretend it didn't happen, Benny. You shot me." She shrugged. "But I can't pretend I wouldn't have done the exact same thing. Except I wouldn't have waited for you to wake up first to apologize to you."

He was staring at her now with such rapt attention that she had to gesture behind him before he realized Tommy was at the table.

"I am going to take care of the two of you myself tonight. Only the best for the boss and our lovely talent agent. So what can I get for my two favorite people on the Strip?"

Instantly, Benny was "on" again, the smarm surging back full force. "Well, I don't know what they want, but what'll you have, Pussycat?" Only after Tommy had walked away did he let his expression slide back to serious, leaving Honor to wonder which was the truth and which was the mask.

 

After dinner, he asked her to dance.

She couldn't bring herself to tell him she didn't know if she knew how; she just warned him of impending clumsiness and followed him meekly onto the dance floor. One of the Rad Pack, a young man named Bobby, crooned a slow love song, so after a few awkward moments of fitting her steps into Benny's, she was able to settle into the sway of the music. She let him guide her, his left hand holding hers aloft, his other light at her waist. He was not an overly tall man— she had a feeling she was used to someone much taller— but she still had to look up to meet his eyes. She found that too intense, though, and stared instead at his shoulder. He smelled nice, of soap and cologne. Where had he found cologne?

"You all right?" he murmured, and she felt his voice rumble deeply in his chest.

"Yeah, I'm just— concentrating on not stepping on your feet."

He smiled at her and kissed her head. "You're doing fine, honey baby."

She felt at that moment that she could crawl inside that voice and let it rock her to sleep.

Bobby transitioned into another slow song, and they kept dancing. Honor hardly noticed the change. God, she felt relaxed here. Safe, on the Strip.

In Benny's arms.

There'd been times, trying to sleep through a cold desert night, when she'd believed she would never feel safe again, ever.

She realized she was frowning when he asked again, "Are you sure you're all right? You're a million miles away, Pussycat." He put a forefinger beneath her chin. "What gives? Not having a good time? Want to call it a night?"

He sounded genuinely concerned, which just made things worse. "I'm sorry, Benny. I'm just— I'm really confused right now."

He stopped and put his hand to her elbow again. "Then I'll take you home. It's all right—"

"No, you don't need to do that."

He withdrew his hands from her altogether, though she'd have sworn his expression was pained. "Of course. You don't need an escort, and you certainly know the way." He smiled thinly.

"That's not what I mean." She rubbed at her forehead. "I don't think I want to go home."

"What do you need, then, baby? You say the word, and I'll make it happen."

"Can we go someplace that's just...quiet? Just the two of us? Just sit together, and maybe talk?"

She thought for a moment she had struck him dumb, but he found his voice again and escorted her off the dance floor. "Sure thing, honey baby. We can go to my suite."

"To _talk,_ Benny."

He grinned. "I know, I know. But we'll be alone, and we won't be disturbed there."

She nodded acquiescence and let him lead her to the thirteenth floor.

He settled her on one of the couches and gave her a glass of something alcoholic and bubbly. He poured himself one and sat next to her, not touching but with his arm along the back of the couch behind her. He seemed content to let her restart the conversation, or not, as she chose. She was grateful for that, that he was letting her think instead of filling the silence with inane chatter.

And think, she did. Or rather, it was more of a decision making process, or realization. She thought Benny must have been right, that she hadn't been fully aware of her own motivations for tracking him down. She felt like she'd been fighting a current when all she really wanted to do was relax and let it float her along.

 _So why are you fighting?_ she asked herself.

_Because you can't trust him._

_You don't want to be an idiot._

_You don't want to be wrong._

_You don't want to give him the chance to betray you. To hurt you again._

_So why do I still want so very, very badly to trust him anyway?_

_You can't know,_ she finally told herself, _until he keeps_ not _hurting you. Trust is built by the absence of betrayal; it can't be proved except over time. Can you expect more from anyone else?_

_And didn't you admit you would have done what he did?_

She steeled herself and gently, slowly, leaned into his body beneath his raised arm. He stiffened in surprise, then lowered his arm to cradle her, kissing the top of her head as he did.

He held her against him until she fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

She awoke the next morning, still clothed, alone in his bed. She crept out of his room to find him sleeping on the couch, looking rumpled but relatively peaceful. She knelt on the floor at his side and touched his arm to wake him. He roused. "Pussycat. Sleep well?"

"I did. Thank you."

He brushed at her lips with his thumb. "Don't mention it, honey baby."

"No, for the whole evening, Benny. Thank you."

He nodded solemnly. "You're welcome."

Suddenly self-conscious and shy, she watched him through her lowered lashes. "Are we— will we— do this again sometime?"

The smile he gave her was slow. Lovely. "Sure thing, honey baby. You just give me the whens and wheres and you've got me."

"Really?"

He leaned in to kiss her, setting her stomach fluttering. He pulled back, but stayed close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath as he answered. "Do you not understand what's going on here?" He locked eyes with her. "I'm yours, Pussycat. For as long as you want me."

 

She'd hoped it early enough that she could sneak into her room at the Lucky 38 undetected, but no such luck. The whole crew was awake, hanging out in the rec room with the door open, and they all looked her way when the elevator opened. ED-E rushed her first, checking for himself that she was unharmed, then settled into his normal hum at her shoulder as she entered the rec room to get it over with. The others just bored holes in her with their eyes.

Boone broke the silence. "So. Is he still alive?"

"Yes."

"Didja fuck him?" Cass asked.

"No."

"Really? Why not?" from Veronica.

Arcade answered Veronica, but without taking his eyes off of Honor. "Maybe she doesn't want to sleep with the man who tried to kill her?" He looked hopeful, but not very.

"Yeah, well," Honor said, "and then maybe I do."

"What?"

"Oh, honey."

"And _then_ you'll shoot him, right?"

Honor just lowered her head and waited for their reactions to cool. When they silenced, she asked, "Finished?"

Arcade sighed. "We're just worried about you, honey."

"I know. I can only imagine what Lily would have to say about it. But trust me. I've given everything a lot of thought, and I'm being careful."

"Being careful." Boone crossed his arms.

Honor held her arms out. "Look, trust me, or don't. If I'm wrong, I'm the only one who suffers."

Cass cocked her head. "You think if he kills you, it won't bother us at all?"

"He's had the chance to kill me, several times over now. That's not what he wants."

Boone stood. "Mark my words. He wants _something._ And when he's got it, it'll be a whole different ball game." He turned his back on her and stalked out of the room.

Honor considered one of her better qualities the fact that she didn't know when to quit.

She considered one of her worst qualities the fact that she didn't know when to quit.

She darted after Boone. "Wait."

He stopped and turned toward her.

"Why is this so horrible to you?"

"Are you serious? He shot you in the head, so now you're fucking him. You don't see the problem there?"

"I haven't slept with him."

"But you're going to, aren't you."

"What difference does it make to you? It's not like I'm asking you to watch, or anything." She gave him a smile, hoping the joke would lighten the mood.

It didn't. Boone reddened, though from embarrassment or rage, she couldn't tell. "It makes a difference because I'm concerned for you, you little idiot. That man is a cross between a weasel and a reptile. He cannot be trusted."

She gestured at herself. "And what am I?"

"A hell of a lot better than that."

"In your opinion."

"So you don't think you're any better than he is. I can't change that. And I can't sit around here watching you offer up your throat every time he gets horny and doesn't feel like paying one of the girls from Gomorrah."

"So— you're leaving? Really? Over this?"

He nodded once, somber. "I can't watch you throw your life away on him because you're too naive or too stupid to see that he's using you. I'll be of more use back in Novac." He pushed the elevator call button. "I like you, Honor. You're a good kid. But you're smarter than this. And I can't stick around just to watch you go down this road."

She retreated back to the rec room before the elevator arrived. From the looks on her friends' faces, they'd heard the discussion. ED-E flew to her and chittered consolingly, brushing against her head with his grill frame. She patted him and sat beside Cass, who put her arm around her. "You know, we're all worried about you," she said, "but I don't think walking out is the right answer."

"It was the right answer for Boone." Honor rubbed at her eyes. "He's right, anyway. He can do more good in Novac than here."

"Do you really trust Benny?" Veronica asked.

"You know, I do." Honor shook her head. "I really don't think he wants to kill me. I've been watching how Swank and Tommy act around him, _and_ me-- they don't act like I'm a threat. They act like the whole thing's _hilarious."_

"What, that their conniving, rough-and-tumble tribal chief has 'fallen for a dame'?" Arcade asked.

She shrugged, hesitant to admit it. "I think so. I think— I think he's actually being honest with me."

"Well, let's not get _too_ carried away."

She grinned at him.

"And what about you?" Cass asked her. "How do you feel about their conniving, rough-and-tumble tribal chief? Are you sure you've fallen for him, too?"

Honor thought for a moment before she spoke. "I think I could be happy here, on the Strip. I think I could be happy here with Benny."

"Then grab it, and hold on." Veronica took her hand and squeezed. "Trust me. If you can be happy with someone, nothing's worth letting that go."

"Unless he shoots you again," Arcade amended.

"Right. Unless he shoots you again."


	6. Epilogue

After being humiliated at Hoover Dam, General Oliver refused to step foot on the Strip, even after word came down that the troublesome courier (that backstabbing bitch) had handed off leadership of Vegas to the head of the Chairmen. So Colonel Moore found herself at the Lucky 38, taking Oliver's place at this auspicious function: the opening of the casino to the public for the first time in over two hundred years. She held the same opinion of the courier as Oliver— that the NCR should never have tolerated this upstart Honor in the first place, let alone allowed her to assume such a position of power in their territory— but sometimes officers were also called upon to be diplomats, and this was one of those times. A pair of Securitrons opened the doors, and she and her aides stepped inside.

It was like stepping back in time. Bright lights, laughter, a crowd of people relaxing and enjoying themselves, all topped by the clang and chimes of the slot machines...from in here, she thought, a person would never guess there was a wasteland at the door.

She took measure of the people present and tried not to roll her eyes, in case anyone important was watching. Mixed in with the civilian patrons, the Freeside thugs were well represented by the "King" himself and several of his punks. The anarchists, the Followers, were also there in force; but then, the courier had spent a great deal of time in the company of one of their doctors, so while their apparent new importance was disappointing, it wasn't surprising. A couple of freaks from the White Glove Society mingled through the crowd, as well.

And at the center of it all stood Benny, chieftain— no, _head_ of the Chairmen, she corrected herself— soaking up the attention for all he was worth and looking dapper doing it. _But clean them up and dress them fancy,_ she thought, _he and the Chairmen and the White Gloves are still just tribal animals pretending to civilization they haven't earned._

Still, she would play nice. She was there to represent her country, not to judge.

One of the Chairmen— Swank, she thought his name was— approached her from out of the crowd. "Colonel, glad you could join us."

 _Doubt that,_ she thought, but she kept it to herself. "Thanks." She nodded toward the intense knot of people around Vegas's new leader. "I was hoping to have a moment to speak to Benny under more private conditions. Can you arrange that?" Though technically it was a question, she made it clear by her tone that she expected only one answer.

"No can do, doll face." Swank smiled at her in a way he clearly thought charming, but she didn't respond. "You wanna chat up the boss, you'll have to do it here during the party." He looked past her toward Benny and smirked. "Although you might find it a lot harder now to get his attention."

She spun to see what he found so amusing. The courier— Honor— had stepped up to Benny's side, the crowd around him parting for her, and as they leaned close to whisper into one another's ears, the expressions on their faces made it clear that for that moment, everyone else in the place had ceased to exist. At one point Benny nuzzled her hair and placed a tender kiss on the courier's forehead, and she responded with a feather caress along his jaw. She whispered something else to him, he grinned widely, and she led him off of the casino floor and out of sight.

"Yeah, waited too long," Swank said, and she realized she'd been gaping. She snapped her mouth shut. "Too late."

"I see that. Thank you." Moore turned her back on him and led her aides further into the crowd. They could still at least get an idea of how the NCR was currently viewed by Vegas's denizens, and perhaps the city's new ruler— or was it rulers?— would reappear. In any case, it was obvious she would have to inform Oliver and the senate that the situation was much more complicated than they'd hoped. From the way those two idiots had gazed at each other, there were emotions involved, and she had no idea how to deal with that.

 _Not my problem,_ she reminded herself as she accepted a drink from one of the wait staff.

_Yet._

In time, she had no doubt the NCR would be picking up the pieces of this little fiasco. When this "relationship" exploded, it was sure to destabilize the whole Mojave.

Until then, she would wait. After all, how long could it take for them to tire of each other? She smiled at one of her aides. "I give it six weeks...eight at the most. Then...we'll be ready."

_Yes. Eight weeks._

_Tops._


End file.
